


Stealing Your Heart

by bleedinglight



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Thieves, M/M, Mentions of War, Poverty vs Rich
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-27
Updated: 2020-02-24
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:28:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22438759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bleedinglight/pseuds/bleedinglight
Summary: A series of unfortunate events has led to souls back to each other.
Relationships: Vanitas/Ventus (Kingdom Hearts)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 48





	1. Chapter 1

It started with a war that escalated into the slums.

For as long as any of them could remember, there had been nothing but never-ending fights that raged in the world above that fell into the world below. Many people died, many buildings turned into debris. It had been the same old song and dance for as long as anyone could remember. Death was daily; it grew to be more shocking if no one had died than it was to see someone’s corpse displayed on mangled concrete for all to see. People grew homeless, left without a home or shelter without walls to block out the reality of the world around them. Food grew scarce and the sky was ashen with smoke.

It grew to be the harshest years that followed when the war finally ended.

However, the world above didn’t care for the slums. While they managed to build funds to rebuild _their_ homes, rebuild _their_ lives after such a tragic event, the slums were left to fend for themselves. Picked up discarded wood from trash to try to build their own homes again, or at least make a decent shelter. Theft quickly rose in occupation as people grew desperate for food, for simple luxuries such as being able to afford blankets to block out the cold.

Who knew that it would be so easy to take advantage of the simplest things in life?

While those above began to enjoy their lives to how it once was before the ruined their lives, those in the slums needed to work harder to rebuild _theirs_.

It was a battle.

It was a war.

The war never ended in the slums. It merely continued onto another chapter of their survival.

Children began thieving. Adults began to sell their children for anything that they could think of. People were used to betraying each other, knives digging deep into the backs of others until they die from bleeding out. It became a game, it became their routine of life. Nothing else mattered. Gangs were the closest things to family anyone ever had anymore. Allies were forged on temporary basis as it would be foolish to trust anyone that long where your life would be forced to play in their hand.

It was also how Ventus and Vanitas grew up.

The two of them met in the gutters of the slum. Filth and slime filled the alleys they were forced to live in. Garbage and scraps were all that they had, but if they can manage to find something else—find something _better_ —to sell, then maybe they can buy something from the scarce markets that had managed to be rebuilt in the aftermath. They were both trying to steal from the same cart, got into a skirmish, and ended up fleeing together.

At the end of the day, they ended up sharing an old, stale loaf of bread that did nothing to ease the hungry ache in their stomachs.

They ended up growing attached, partnering up even though they knew it was dangerous. But they were children at the time. Children were expected to gather into groups, to form alliances that would eventually break as they grow older. Adults tended to distrust easier than children did. They didn’t possess the same optimism and light they did, but at the same time, children were smart. They were smaller. They knew had to get through things in ways adults never could.

There was also a dangerous number of children in the slums compared to adults.

Things changed on a rainy day.

Rainy days in the slums were worse than hot days. Everything grew soaked, dripping through tired cardboard and withered blankets. The humidity made it unbearable on some days, the mixture of rain and sweat soaking their clothes and sticking to their skin. It was an easy way to make most people in the slums grumpy, most of them not wanting to do anything and willing to let the rain wash them away. It was also a time of the day where no one wanted to step out onto the crummy streets of the slums, not wanting dark as black mud sticking to whatever shoes they had left or slimy garbage being flung at them.

It was also a day when Ventus had contracted a fever.

No one liked illnesses in the slums. It was just another step closer to death, and if one got sick, then it was almost inevitable for everyone else to get sick as well. With no access to medicine, they can only depend on their luck and whatever merciful deity was out there. Regardless, Vanitas knew that he had to find some way to keep Ventus safe and away from everyone else. They lived in a broken-down home that Vanitas could scarcely remember Ventus pointed out to him once that used to be his home. The walls were worn down by erosion, part of the roof caved in from where a stray bomb had hit it. Only half of the house was still livable and even then, it was also home to stray animals that could kill them easier than any sickness can.

Better yet, it was a home no one bothered coming out to because of how close it was to one of the dead zones in the slums.

Carrying Ventus was a bit of a drag when the other boy could barely hold himself up. But Vanitas didn’t want to lose his only friend in this dog-eat-dog world and if it meant Ventus would get better, then he’d sacrifice his own health in the process. They were only a pair of eight-year-olds struggling to survive. It wasn’t as if they had anyone else they could depend on. It was easy to tuck Ventus into the remains of his old room with a broken spring bed and worn-down blankets with holes in it. Vanitas carefully placed the young blond onto the piece of the mattress that wasn’t stabbed through with broken wood, grabbing the blankets and tucking it around him. He didn’t know how to keep Ventus dry; it was a miracle itself that his old room was intact enough that only the corner of the room was sopping wet.

Vanitas frowned at how weak Ventus seemed, the wheezing sending a sharp pain to his heart. He looked around, trying to see if there was anything else in the room that can help. When he found nothing, he grimaced and patted the boy’s cheek, whispering to him that he will come back to him soon.

Knowing Ventus couldn’t respond, Vanitas hurried out of the room. The rest of the house was in tatters and much appeared as if they wouldn’t be able to hold up at all. He even checked the master bedroom, finding nothing but torn clothing and a couple of skeletal corpses that made his nose wrinkle up. He wasn’t sure if these were Ventus’ parents or not, but he wasn’t going to stick around to find out. There was nothing they can do for them, anyway. He ducked out of the room, scavenging around the house until he managed to find some blankets or torn rags. It wasn’t the cleanest, but it would have to do.

He bundled Ventus up as much as he can, just enough to make sure he was warm. His knowledge in first aid was lacking, only knowing enough that he needed to get Ventus’ fever to break and to get him some food. Medicine was more expensive than food, after all; not to mention, he would need to get near to the surface if he even wanted to get his hands on the cheapest medicine there was. Vanitas kneeled by Ventus’s side, gently dabbing away his sweat with a rag.

Vanitas frowned. He needed to find a way make Ventus better.

Tucking Ventus in as much as he can, Vanitas vowed to come back to him before he hurried out, tiny footsteps echoing in the empty house as he ran out onto the streets. Food. Food. He needed food. Maybe some herbs or something he can grind down to easily slip into some water. Ventus showed him how to do it once.

But the streets of the slums were never easy.

He had to duck under debris, skirt around dangerous alleys, and make sure to keep a good eye around his surroundings in case someone decided to jump out. No one held any sort of discrimination, after all. It took an hour before he was running away from a burly man, waving a butcher knife at him. Vanitas held the bag of fruits close to his chest, managing to slip into a small alley and hearing the man curse behind him. But the next thing he knew, he was running into someone and the fruits were splayed out everywhere.

“Hm? What’s this?”

Vanitas bared his teeth. “Don’t touch them!”

A teenager with dark hair gazed down at him, holding an apple in his hand. “Sorry, kid, but you know the rules.”

“Please--!” The words lodged in Vanitas’ throat. He can feel his eyes stinging with tears.

“Brain, be easy on the kid,” another voice rang out. Another teen came out, hair so vividly pink that it stood out in the shadows of the alley. “Hey…I recognize you. You’re usually with the blond. Where is he?”

Vanitas blinked over at him, tiny hands curling into fists. “H-He’s sick. Please. I need that food for him.”

“Sick?” a younger voice spoke up and Vanitas recognized this boy. He was one of the few kind souls in the slums who often helped Ventus out. He was younger than the teens by a few years, a white fluff on his head that he called his hair and vivid blue eyes. “Ventus is sick?”

“Yes.” Vanitas hunched himself forward, realizing his mistake. If word got out that there was a sick person in the slums, someone might come and kill him. He had to prevent that from happening. He—

“Ephemer,” the pink-haired teen called out to the boy, voice full of warning.

Ephemer looked back at him, frowning. “I know, but come on! We gotta help.”

“It’s none of our business,” Brain argued, though his voice seemed to waver just a tiny bit when Ephemer looked at him. He held back a groan. “Fine.”

As the two teens began to pick up the fruit, Ephemer turned back to Vanitas and gave him a kind smile. “Come on. I promise you that we won’t do anything to hurt Ven, but you gotta show us where he is, okay? It’s dangerous right now.”

He shouldn’t.

Vanitas knew that he shouldn’t, but he was a child. He had no one else but Ventus and he can’t lose him. So, he nodded. “Okay.”

The older boy smiled at him kindly, helping Vanitas up once the teens were done picking up the fruit.

Everything that happened after was a blur.

Vanitas never realized just how feverish he felt either, running in the rain and caring for Ventus at the same time. In the end, the three older boys had to take care of the two kids, huddled in that worn-down room with them and making sure they got the care they needed. Brain and Lauriam (as Vanitas can somewhat recall) left often, bringing back whatever food they had manage to scavenge along with all sorts of rags and coats. Once in a while, a young girl with strange orange hair would come with them, followed by an older girl with dark hair and hazel eyes.

They eventually grew close to each other.

Ventus got better first and helped care for Vanitas while he was out, not once leaving his side. Ephemer kept them company too while the girls and the older boys went out. Slowly and steadily, they began to make this broken home their own. It took months and it was the happiest anyone had ever been in their destroyed world. Brain and Lauriam were the big brothers that everyone turned to for support. Ephemer was the voice of reason who kept them all grounded. Skuld was the ‘mother’ of the group who made sure everyone was cared for, and Strelitzia was the youngest sister that everyone adored and wanted to protect.

They were family.

But even their happiness needed to end eventually.

And it began the moment Vanitas was whisked away in a fancy-looking car by a man claiming to be his uncle, taking him away from the slums, ignoring his cries as he tried to reach out to the friends he left behind—to the boy he left behind.

~***~

Life was often cruel.

Fifteen years passed since Vanitas was taken away from the slums, apparently found by family he had no idea even existed. He was raised by these men who groomed him to become another heir for a company on the surface. A company that had their hands in all sorts of business, greedy to dip their hands into more. From what he could recall, his father was the son of a tyrant named Xehanort who lived on the surface but left to live in the slums with his mother after a falling out in the family. They kept his existence a secret, not wanting him to get caught up in the maelstrom of businesses that would tear his sanity away.

A shame, then, that it hadn’t worked out.

_“If you remain a good boy, I will take you to see those…friends in the slums.”_

As a child, he took his word as the promise it was meant to be.

There was only one time when Xehanort honored his word, having their driver take Vanitas back to the slums that he could barely recognize two years after he was taken. The slums were even worse than before. The stench of death clung to everything it touched and, in the distance, he can vaguely smell the char of burning flesh. It made him sick. He spent the whole day trying to find his friends, reluctantly bringing a bodyguard with him despite knowing how to avoid being caught by others. Hours, he spent searching. Hours, his search proved to be fruitless.

Even the house they once resided in had been destroyed, crumbled down into debris to the point where it was no longer livable.

His heart was crushed.

Vanitas grew up in a household that cared more about appearances and duties than actual familiar types. His memories of his time with his parents were hazy, but it made him long for the warmth that came with close companionship. Often times, he thought of Ventus, thought of the others who actually made him feel like he had a proper family. He can recall feeling absolute horror when his grandfather told him how the surface made the decision to eradicate the slums entirely. With the slums permanently destroyed, there wouldn’t need to be a division between the surface and the slums.

In fact, they wouldn’t need to worry at all.

It didn’t prevent him from sneaking out to the slums, only to be pulled back by a bodyguard before he can set foot in it just as everything went ablaze.

That was ten years ago.

Now, Vanitas worked as a director for a museum. Xehanort believed he would work best there considering he seemed to have a knack of history and prized value in contrast to his uncles and cousins who were more business-oriented, focused more on the wealth than value. It was also an easy way to slip away from his (unwanted) family’s attention and his grandfather trying to set him up with some kind of arranged marriage. At least here he would be able to get away from it all.

At least, that was the plan until the Phantom Thief began to show up.

The Phantom Thief appeared out of nowhere just short of a month ago. While the pieces he stole from the museum weren’t as valuable as older relics, they were still pricy enough that made it hard to replace or pay certain funds for because it was lost. No one knew who the thief was; all they knew was that he (or _she_ , as Xion liked to remind him) often left behind a white feather and a note. Sometimes the note relayed riddles that took Vanitas a moment to realize it was to inform him of the next target or to taunt the officers on duty for not doing their jobs well enough.

Needless to say, it annoyed them all.

Vanitas didn’t want to waste time in dallying over who the suspect could be. He had a job to do and if his grandfather continued to get on his case about it, he knew he would be forced to join the world of business like his other relatives.

And he could care less about becoming a business mongrel.

Without the slums, people had a way of growing needy. While a little more than half of the population had been reduced to ashes, there were those who grew more desperate for jobs. There may be more room in the city, but it also meant jobs had a way of growing filled quicker than they were being made. There was no rest for the wicked at all. So businesses thrived on these people’s desperation, their desire to be able to support themselves working against them as they grovel at the feet of various businesses to take them in—they’d do _anything_.

It was rather sickening to see.

Vanitas ignored them all.

He just needed to focus on his job and find a way to capture this Phantom Thief before that person forced the museum to go out of business.

But his attention slowly became caught when he noticed a blond man standing a few feet ahead of him. When the man turned to look at him, Vanitas felt himself pause, feeling his breath catch in his throat.

Could it...really be...?


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time is an illusion.
> 
> And I apologize. I didn't edit this chapter at all.

He could sometimes hear the screams that echoed in the slums. Still feel the ground shake when bodies hit the floor after being shot. No one quite knew why the surface hated the slums so much. Deep down, they were all the same—yet, there was such a huge divide between them. When he was a child, he dreamed of returning to the slums to help it prosper. He wanted to give his old home a chance to become better than what it was forcibly reduced to. A chance to make it all better.

Until the slums were burned down and not a trace was left behind.

Until now.

At first, he thought it was a dream. There was no possible way that the man in front of him was Ventus. He had spent years trying to find him after the destruction of the slums. Tried to find anyone from their old gang, but knew deep down he only ever cared about the boy with the bright smile that made his heart beat fast. It was a feeling he couldn’t forget even if he wanted to. It was the one feeling that proved to him that he was more ‘human’ than his relatives. But here he was. In front of him. Eyes still filled with that bright blue that seemed to hold the entirety of the sky within and a smile that made the sun burn with envy.

It took even longer to separate himself from the blond once he realized it was him.

He could still feel embarrassment burning through him when he clung to him in the museum, having felt like a little kid again in the slums with no one else to turn to. It took some time before he could manage to pry himself away from his old friend, unable to help himself from leaning into that familiar warmth that he longed for. It was easy enough to divert attention away from the topic when his uncle commented on it after seeing the blond leave the museum that day.

It was easy to find him again after that.

“You look well,” Ventus commented as they both sat in the café Vanitas had chosen. Vanitas wanted to try to do his best to spoil Ventus, show him all the sorts of sights that they didn’t get the privilege to see when they were younger. He knew it would take a while for him to grow adjusted. Still, he just…wanted to try to share a piece of this world with him. Out of everyone, Ventus deserved it. “Still pale though.”

Vanitas felt his lips quirk up at that. “Don’t think there’s anything that can be done about that.”

Ventus chuckled and Vanitas can feel a warmth spread from his chest and through his body.

“Where have you been? How are the others?”

At the question, the smile died from Ventus’ lips and his expression grew somber.

“It’s…a long story,” Ventus answered slowly, sitting back in his chair. His expression grew sadder as if he was reliving those moments before he began to tell Vanitas about everything he missed.

How after Vanitas left—was _taken_ from them—everything seemed to get worse.

The slums grew even more unbearable. The adults have begun turning a blind eye to the children, taking those they find weak in the alleys and selling them off to the highest bidder. Sometimes, those people were the same business mongrels that Vanitas was forced to familiarize himself with. No one knew what happened to the children who were sold off. No one wanted to think about it, but it gave the adults money so no one wanted to argue about it. Then parts of the slums were beginning to get mowed down by those construction trucks, demolishing the old buildings and had no care of who were in their way.

Everyone grew more desperate.

Strelitzia grew sick with a disease that couldn’t be cured, dying within just days of getting it. Lauriam, despaired with grief, disappeared without a word to anyone and no one had seen him since. (Briefly, Vanitas wondered if this ‘Marluxia’ he heard about sometimes was Lauriam. The description of his appearance seemed to fit.) After his best friend ran off, Brain seemed to follow suit. He left a note at least in his wake, explaining to them that there were other things he needed to do, to try to find support to give them a better life, but no one heard from him since either.

Then it came down to three of them.

The three of them struggled to survive together and most times, tensions were high. Ephemer and Skuld argued frequently, Ventus told Vanitas in a hushed tone, and sometimes Skuld would go off on her own. But they were all they had left of each other; they were the only family they had left. Until the slums were destroyed, set ablaze or people were gunned down. Skuld was unfortunately caught in the crossfire of it all, pleading Ephemer and Ventus to live just before a building collapsed on her.

And then there were two.

Ventus seemed to pause, sipping his drink slowly and fingered the red scarf he wore around his neck. Looking at it now, Vanitas finally realized why it seemed so familiar.

“Where’s Ephemer?”

“He’s…” The expression on Ventus’ face broke Vanitas’ heart more than anything else. “We were…together for a while. But he…ended up getting sick. He passed away not too long ago.”

“Ven….”

Ventus shook his head, looking up and giving Vanitas a small smile. “It’s okay,” he assured him. “It is. Things…happen, right? There are just some things that you can’t fight.”

It didn’t make Vanitas feel any better.

He glanced down at his watch when he felt it vibrate, seeing a notification for a text message from Xemnas appear. Holding back a snort, he chose to ignore it and looked back at Ventus. He knew there were still matters of the Phantom Thief to deal with. He knew there was a job he needed to get back to—even if he owned the damn museum, he’d still get scolded if he just left his job without a word to anyone, including his assistant. But none of that mattered when it came to the man in front of him.

Vanitas didn’t want to do anything that would mean he would risk losing him.

“I’m sorry for leaving you,” Vanitas blurted out. “I didn’t want to. I tried coming back to look for you, but—”

“Vanitas.” A hand was placed over his and golden eyes stared into gentle blue. Ventus smiled at him gently. For a moment, Vanitas felt like a child again. Angry at the world, short-tempered with anyone who wasn’t Ventus, but lost and confused. Their parents were dead and back then, they didn’t have any other relatives to depend on. Just each other. Ventus was his anchor to the world. “It’s alright. None of us blamed you. Like I said, things happen. I’m just happy to be able to see you again.”

Golden eyes softened.

“Me as well.”

That gentle smile turned brighter and for a moment, everything felt alright.

But reality had a harsh way of sucking people back into it.

Vanitas often spent his days between Ventus and his job. The family tried to get him involved in more of their own ventures, but he could care less about those. What he truly needed to focus on right now was catching that damn Phantom Thief.

_You’re beginning to slip, Director._

_Hope you don’t make another mistake._

  * _Missing Ache_



He was beginning to hate this thief.

There were never any leads on who the thief was, but he seemed to be gaining more recognition throughout the city. Enough recognition where the old man actually had to come visit him personally while at work.

“Your security has been lacking, Vanitas,” the old man rasped at him. He stood in front of him, arms clasped behind his back as it usually was. Those piercing gold eyes looked at him with that same look he was given since he was taken in. Condescending. Taunting. Mocking him as if it would persuade him to do better. To _be_ better. Honestly, all Vanitsa wanted to do was smack him in the face. Just once. At least one punch would be enough to satisfy him. “I do hope that the boy you’ve been seeing hasn’t been the cause of a distraction.”

Vanitas pursed his lips together, trying to keep his temper in. “He’s not,” he finally said. “I’ve been placing more security around the museum, but the Thief is slicker than we gave him credit for. It seems like he knows the ins and outs of the museum already.”

“All the more reason for you to capture him. If this continues, the reputation will be tarnished and people will begin to wonder if you’d be competent enough to handle such a measly thief.”

A slow blink.

The idea of him punching the old man was beginning to look more and more appealing.

But he took a deep breath to keep the urge in even as his fingers twitched slightly over the mouse of his computer. “If I recall, it’s not just the museum that’s being targeted. He’s also stolen things from the Company, hasn’t he? Xeha kept me updated about what’s been going on in that front.”

Oh. It felt good to see that surprise flickering in those piercing gold eyes. Vanitas didn’t know why Xehanort believed him to be out of the loop. Despite his own tense relations with the old man, Xemnas, and Ansem, Vanitas did maintain a good enough relationship with the younger members of the family. If anything, Xeha and Xion were not complete assholes as the older man in their family. They bonded, at least, over being the youngest and having to deal with the incompetence of the older generations. Even if the older generation had been the ones to establish a successful business venture that expanded over several countries already.

Vanitas leaned forward, elbows on his desk and fingers laced together. “I know where my priorities lay first and foremost. That has not changed.”

“Then I expect you to catch that thief soon.”

That was all Xehanort said before he turned on his heel and walked out, ending the conversation.

Vanitas snorted once the door closed behind him.

A way to capture the thief, huh?

If Vanitas knew, he would have done so already. The police on the surface were arrogant, believing to catch the thief the moment he slipped up. It was no wonder why the slums were as terrible as they were back then if they let their own pride get in the way of things. They had disregarded his own concerns over the means of capturing this ‘Missing Ache’, only deciding to compromise on lending more officers to ensure that the theft doesn’t happen again. In the end, the thief was still successful and also succeeded in making them look bad. If he wasn’t frustrated already, he would have found amusement in how disappointed they were in themselves for being unable to catch a person.

But it did give him an idea at least as to how to handle the problem.

So, when another note was found on the protective case of one of the artefacts, his plans began to form.

“You want me to what?” Ventus frowned at him, confusion on his face as they sat together for a homemade dinner at the blond’s apartment. It was small, an example of a decent income for someone making it on their own in this world, but on the corner where it bordered between the nouveau riche and the border of the town. It was a little farther away from where Vanitas lived, but he didn’t want to put Ventus anywhere near that family of his. For now. “You want to accompany you to a party?”

Vanitas nodded, taking a bite out of the chicken Ventus made for them.

It tasted like Skuld’s cooking.

“I know it’s sudden, but I wanted you there with me. You don’t really have to talk to anyone if you feel uncomfortable, Ven. I just want your support.”

Ventus stared at him for a moment, lips pursed. “You know your family doesn’t like me.”

“It’s not like I really give a damn about them,” Vanitas retorted. “I’m the one who wants you there. Not them. They can choose not to go to the party and do whatever they want in their damn time if they don’t like it. I just…”

_Need you_.

The words remained unspoken, but it had Ventus’ gaze softening all the same. He took a moment to think, chewing on his pasta slowly as he thought about it. Then, he slowly began to nod.

“Alright.” Golden eyes snapped to him. Ventus gave him a shy smile. “I’ll go with you. But you owe me.”

Vanitas can feel his shoulders relax at that. “I know. Thanks, Ven.”

“You’re lucky I love you,” the blond joked.

Vanitas just chuckled.

“I love you too.”

~***~

The party was boring as ever.

People enjoyed talking too much and while their words were one thing, their eyes were another. It almost became ridiculously easy how Vanitas was able to read between the lines now. Just how he lived as a child in the slums, the surface was truthfully not that much different. The only exception was that adults were more brutally honest in the slums whereas in the city, they prefer to use underhanded tactics and schemes. It was annoying learning how to play their game.

But the benefits he reaped from it were worth it.

Even so, he kept Ventus close to him, often giving scathing looks to his relatives whenever they tried to approach him. Ventus was polite, of course. He greeted them with a courtesy that was expected of him, but Vanitas never let him wander away. Xion teased him about being possessive. Xeha commented how he was being overprotective.

They were both right.

He didn’t want to lose his light.

Vanitas checked the time on his watch. It was just about time for the Phantom Thief to come. He really wondered if the thief would really try to risk it with so many people still in the building. He often came when it was dead in the night, but that was precisely why Vanitas had timed the party to be at this time.

Rich people loved parties, after all, no matter where.

“Vanitas?” Ventus peered at him curiously. “Why do you keep checking your watch?”

“No reason.”

The blond didn’t seem to believe him but nodded anyway. He opened his mouth to say something—

Only for everything to go dark.

Vanitas’ ears began to ring when someone screamed out in surprise, almost high pitched enough to break glass. He tightened his hold on Ventus briefly. “Ven, stay here.”

“But—”

Vanitas didn’t give him time to answer before he ran off, quick to run to where the next target was supposed to be. If the thief actually had the gall to come when there were so many people, then he was either stupid or more cunning than Vanitas originally thought. There weren’t many people who was able to slip past the guards, after all, no matter how incompetent they proved themselves to be sometimes. He kept running before he slammed open the door where the next target was supposed to be.

He froze in the doorway when he saw artefact missing but a note remained in its place.

_Better luck next time. - Missing Ache_

He gritted his teeth and slammed his fist into the door.

“Damn it!”

Vanitas stepped aside, letting the police do their job while he glared at the empty display case, the note mocking him.

He was going to hunt this Missing Ache down once and for all.


	3. Chapter 3

Sometimes it started off with a dream.

Flames would engulf the edges of his vision, the smell of sulfur and charred flesh surrounding him. It made him feel sick. He wanted nothing to do with it. Sometimes he can dream himself of standing on the burned grounds of the slums. Beneath his feet, there were the bodies of everyone who suffered from the hands of the people who left them to waste away. Skeletons, charred, were left around him. A reminder of how useless he felt in trying to save them.

But nothing could defeat the guilt he felt when he would see Ventus’ body splayed on the ground like a macabre painting.

Even in death, he was beautiful.

The more this phantom thief kept stealing from him, the more those dreams kept happening. More often than not, he would find himself jerking awake in cold sweat, feeling chills running up and down his arms. The more he seemed to think about it, the more he believed there was something about the artefacts that were stolen and continued to be targeted. Honestly, he felt more annoyed with himself for not realizing it sooner.

Each item that was taken was connected to the slums in some way.

Having Xeha look into each artefact’s past confirmed it for him.

Days trickled on by, blurring together seamlessly until it all seemed to become one.

Dealing with the Phantom Thief was beginning to take more time away from Ventus. The blond was sweet and understanding, coming to grow to understand that despite how much he groused about it, Vanitas did take his job seriously. It wasn’t as if he knew what else to do, having submerged himself in work the moment he was capable of handling it alone. He did his best to delegate matters between his personal life and his work life. He had just reunited with Ventus; he didn’t want to end up doing something that would cause him to withdraw. But as the thefts began to grow more frequent, it was difficult to give him as much attention as he would like.

“Another busy day?” Ventus’ voice came through the speaker.

The two eventually had to compromise on a phone date due to their conflicting schedules. Or rather in Vanitas’ case, stuck in his office trying to trace everything between the artefacts and learning of its history. There was a new shipment coming in today for the curators to look at and place appropriately before it was put on display. However, as he looked over at the list of items on the shipment, Vanitas noted one that seemed different from the others. He typed on his keyboard, zeroing in on that artefact.

“Vanitas?”

Vanitas blinked. “Sorry. What were you saying?”

A soft sigh. “If you’re busy, we can talk later.”

“No, it’s okay.” Vanitas clicked on his mouse a couple of times. “I was just looking over something. Are you going to go straight home after work?”

“Mm.” Ventus hummed. “Sora wanted to hang out with me today. Are we still on for dinner or are you going to be at work all day?”

Vanitas pursed his lips. “Yeah, sorry.”

“It’s alright, Van. I know you’re busy. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

“Alright.”

“Make sure to eat and take breaks,” Ventus reminded him. “If I have to call you every two hours, I will.”

At the threat, Vanitas’ lips twitched up. “If that’s the case, then I’ll definitely have to skip out on eating meals. Can’t get enough of your nagging, after all.”

“ _Vanitas_.”

He snickered, feeling himself relax at the banter between them. “Relax. I’m not going to do anything to make myself sick.”

“Uh huh.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Vanitas promised. “Don’t worry.”

Ventus almost seemed to snort before bidding Vanitas goodbye as a small ‘ding’ can be heard from the background. Vanitas told him goodbye, reluctantly ending the call to get back to work. As much as he hated it, his workaholic nature seemed to have been something he inherited from that rusty old man of his. Holding back a sigh and instead choosing to click his tongue in annoyance instead, Vanitas returned his gaze to the screen, golden eyes narrowing as he began to link everything together. A map was created in front of him, laid out with every artefact stolen on the screen.

A bad feeling began to coil up in the pit of his stomach.

Vanitas typed on his keyboard, golden eyes darting from one end of the screen to the next. If he wanted to be able to catch the Thief this time, then he knew exactly how to lure him out. Getting permission was easy to bypass; the old man often tended to leave him alone, after all. All he cared about was making sure that Vanitas did his job and didn’t put the family to shame. Honestly, Vanitas was more than content to let the Thief run amok, letting him tarnish the old man’s reputation as a small form of revenge. But considering it was _his_ museum that was being targeted, it became a matter of pride.

And he really didn’t like having his pride poked at.

He exhaled softly, feeling himself get even more bothered by this.

There were a few people he had in mind who could be suspects. Each person in mind was someone he knew from the slums. He didn’t doubt that there would be people who would be absolutely _livid_ at what the old man did years ago. Didn’t doubt even for one moment that they would want to do something to give Xehanort a heart attack and drag the rest of his family into the ground with him. At least—that was what Vanitas would have done if he hadn’t allowed himself to get so deep into the ‘family’ business. He did try to find whatever was left of his old friends. Ventus told him that both Lauriam and Brain left. The rest had died and Vanitas didn’t want to keep pushing him for more details.

But Vanitas did have other ways of finding out.

He glanced at his phone when it began to rang, quick to put the call on speaker.

“What is it?”

_“I’ve found your guy,”_ Xion spoke up from the other side. Behind her, Vanitas can make out the familiar sounds of cars honking, tires screeching, and the usual midday traffic rush which often meant road rage. _“Lauriam, I mean, but he goes by the name of Marluxia now apparently. He owns a flower shop in Midtown. I think your boyfriend works there, too.”_

At the information, Vanitas narrowed his eyes. “Do you know how long he’s been working there?”

_“Says here that the flower shop opened…roughly eight years ago. Marluxia—or Lauriam, whatever you wanna call him—seemed to come out of nowhere. Everyone in the neighborhood always claimed he’s a nice guy. Not a mean bone in his body.”_

Vanitas clicked on the mouse, bringing up a picture of ‘Marluxia’ onto the screen. Looking at him now, Vanitas can really see the similarities between the man in front of him and the man he knew once in the past. He still had that same weird soft shade of pink hair, but his eyes—they were steely. Narrowed eyes stared back at him through the screen. Gone were the kind eyes he came to associate with the pink-haired man. He was lean still, hair wilder and more unkempt as if he hadn’t bothered to keep himself presentable in any way. Just from the picture alone, Vanitas was able to see the differences from then and now.

It made him frown.

_“Vanitas?”_

“Keep some tabs on him,” Vanitas instructed her. “Watch him. Watch Ventus, too.”

_“Really? You’re suspecting your boyfriend, too?”_

He hated having to.

“They’re one of the few people we know who came from the slums,” he explained to her instead. “I don’t want to suspect anyone—especially anyone I knew back then—but right now, it’s best to keep an eye on them.”

Xion was quiet for a moment before sighing, _“Alright, but you better hope this doesn’t ruin your little paradise.”_

Instead of deigning her with an answer, Vanitas ended the call.

He stared at the screen before closing his eyes, sighing softly.

Time was a blur. It often was when it came to his life now. It seemed to seem more like a dream that slipped between his fingers. Vanitas was so, _so_ happy to be reunited with Ventus. He didn’t care too much for the rest of their old gang if he were to be honest. Back as a kid, all he ever wanted was to be with Ventus, bask in the light that only ever seemed to exist in the slums. Even now, Vanitas just wanted to keep him close and never let him go. But the more he got closer to finding out the identity of the Thief, the more it felt like the dream was beginning to slip away from him.

The ghosts were haunting him and rightfully so.

It hurt sometimes.

Vanitas was never the best at handling his liquor. It got him into a lot of trouble in the past and while he toned it down as he grew older, it was still a weakness of his. Three days of trying to connect the dots together. Three days of coming up with more suspects and trying to find out their activities and alibis. Hunting down the thief was not even his real job, damn it. Yet the police were all scatterbrained as ever and he couldn’t even bring himself to even trust them with this kind of information. He’d rather take this damn thief down himself since that seemed like it was coming down to it. Xion and Xeha had an idea, but Vanitas couldn’t bring himself to tell them either. Xion was…a loose cannon most of the time. Xeha, while they got along well enough, had his loyalties to Xehanort first and foremost. For whatever reason, he was the old man’s true heir to the company; not even Xemnas or Ansem coveted that position despite being the oldest of their dysfunctional family.

He wasn’t sure how much he drank honestly. Lost in a haze of a drunken stupor in the safety of his own home. He needed to find something to take the edge off. Needed to just pretend he was that lost kid in the slums again. How would things have gone if he remained—if Xehanort didn’t decide to bring him in? Would he have died in the slums like Strelitzia and Skuld, or would he have chosen to walk away too in the end? To find some semblance of a better life that he can give to himself and Ventus? What if the Phantom Thief felt the same way? Holding in so much anger and bitterness deep inside of his heart that the only way he knew how to fight back against such a corrupted system was to play Robin Hood? He had to snort to himself. What a joke.

Robin Hood wasn’t even real.

But the gentle hands carding through his bangs are.

It made him blink, hazy and glossy as the liquor kicked in.

“Oh, Vani.”

A soft sigh. He recognized that sigh.

It was the same sigh he fell in love with.

Vanitas leaned into the touch, feeling like a child. “Ven…”

“Why did you drink so much?” There was disapproval in that airy tone, almost upset. But the fingers carding through his hair made it difficult for him to focus on it. “Vanitas?”

“Too much,” he murmured, eyes sliding close. “Too much thoughts and I don’t know what to do. Wanna stop. Wanna help. Just…tired.”

There was a pause and the fingers in his hair halted. Another sigh, but it was gentler this time. “Then sleep, silly.”

“Gotta…catch the thief.”

“The thief will still be there tomorrow,” Ventus reasoned. Vanitas blinked slowly when he felt the seat beside him dip as Ventus sat down. “But you, on the other hand, are in no condition to do anything right now. Sleep.”

“Can you sing me a lullaby?”

If he was sober, he would feel embarrassed for sounding so childish. But there was gentle laugh, that specific kind of laugh that made him feel like he was kissed by sunshine and surrounded by spring winds. It made him feel warm. It made him feel like he was _home_. Vanitas barely registered being moved so that his head was laying on Ventus’ lap.

“I don’t have lullabies to sing to you though,” Ventus sounded amused.

Vanitas lazily nuzzled his face against Ventus’ stomach. “I don’t care. Just…sing something.”

A thoughtful hum.

Then: _“Rest, my darling, for the angels are watching over you. Sleep soundly. Sleep freely. Close your eyes and think of good times. Think of sunshine and flowers. Think of happiness and love. Dream of sunshine smiles, dream of sunshine kisses. Rest my darling—the world is yours to take. Rest my darling, for the storm will pass and the sun will smile again.”_

Vanitas let his eyes close, lulled properly to sleep, feeling those fingers card through his hair.

“Good night, Vanitas.”

He sometimes dreamed about sunshine and sunflowers. The slums weren’t the slums. It was beautiful. Filled with all sorts of flowers that would sometimes make him sneeze, the fresh breeze that didn’t smell like rot and death. Sometimes, in his dreams, he would find himself standing across from someone whose back was always turned towards him. Deep down, he knew who the thief was even in that dream, even when that back was turned toward him. He knew who it was.

Recognized it better than most.

Planning on what would happen next was easy to do.

Vanitas had set everything up, even managing to divert the security away from where the attention was truly needed. The seeds were planted, and the note was sent. But he knew that the note was nothing more than a distraction, keep everyone else where he wanted them to be. Everyone else was put on the first floor and he had to keep his face blank when the chief of police told him that they would be able to handle it. It was the same thing he heard ever since this whole ordeal started, and one he knew would be a lie as well. So he just gave a nod, leaving the others to their duty.

Or whatever they claimed was their duty.

The halls were quiet, the sirens flickering red and blue outside of the windows. It was a show. He knew people would be watching the spectacle outside of the safety perimeters that were set up. Some of them were rooting for the Thief, rooting for another successful theft of the night. Others were hoping that the police would finally, _finally_ capture the person who had been a major thorn in their society’s side. All in all, it was just a show. Something to entertain them from how… _mundane_ their society was. Really, everyone just wanted some kind of drama in their lives as if it was just a show to watch. Someone to root for. Someone to want dead. It was just how their reality was.

No one really wanted to know the identity of the Thief.

But there was a job to be done, a hierarchy to maintain.

None of that mattered to him.

Vanitas stopped in front of a door. He took a deep breath, slowly releasing it as he dug his hand into one of the pockets of his long coat. Golden eyes narrowed thoughtfully. He knew what was behind this door. Knew what would happen if his theories were proven right, there would be no more turning back.

He took another deep breath, trying to calm his nerves.

He opened the door, stepping inside enough for the door to close behind him before he pointed his gun at the thief’s head.

“Hello…Vanitas.”

Vanitas ignored the ache in his heart as he stared into those achingly familiar blue eyes he adored so much.

“Ventus.”

Ventus gave him a crooked smile.


	4. Chapter 4

A new life.

That was all he wanted in the end. A chance to break away from the toxic environment that stained his past and into his present. He desired a chance to break free from the chains that seemed so intent on dragging him through the mud. As he grew up, there were times when he could still feel the dirt under his fingernails, feel the splatter of rain on his back and the harsh concrete floor as it collided with his knees. He can still remember darting between alleys that would be too dangerous for anyone who weren’t born in the slums. Knew the place like the back of his hand since it was his original playground. It was where he grew up. No matter what happened to it, no matter how many years it had been, it would always be his home.

The place he was raised in. The place where his parents had chosen to build their family together after turning their backs on his grandfather.

He let himself grow up under the old man’s care to try to pave a new path for himself.

All he ever wanted was to find a better life for himself. To live the life that failed to protect those he left behind in the slums. To live a life that would make them proud of him. Hoping that they would be able to see the fruits of his labor somehow. _Somehow_ , as if it would make everything better. That his leaving didn’t hurt them as bad as it did back then.

A new life.

A brighter future.

That was what he kept telling himself.

_“Why are you doing this?”_

_It was a question he was anxious to ask, but frightened to hear. He didn’t know what was going through Ventus’ head. Back when they were kids, it was easier to figure out what he was thinking of. Ventus had always been an open book to him, but time always had a funny way of changing things when it shouldn’t have. He had an idea as to why, but he wanted to hear Ventus say it himself._

_To tell him why he had gone through such lengths._

_Ventus’ smile softened, pained. “Because I’m just trying to get back the things that belonged to us in the first place,” he answered. His voice was soft, not once rising to try to argue with Vanitas. There was no anger, just hurt. It made Vanitas angry. “There were things that shouldn’t be displayed—not like they were trophies.”_

_“They were—”_

_“What’s left of our past,” Ventus interjected. Something in his eyes changed. “You know that. That’s why you’re here because you knew my target wasn’t what my note said it would.”_

_“Once I connected all the dots, it wasn’t hard to figure out.”_

_Ventus smiled. “So then, what will you do, Vanitas? Are you going to shoot me…or turn me in?”_

He resigned from his job, bought a house in another city. It was what he should have done years ago instead of choosing to become a museum director. There were so many things he had come to regret, but knew it wouldn’t help if he clung to those regrets. Vanitas needed an escape. One he should have taken the moment he was old enough and Xehanort realized he couldn’t sink his nasty claws deep into him as much as he’d like. It wasn’t difficult to give up the family name. Xehanort was displeased, but he didn’t care. He couldn’t take the money he had away from him because it was _his_ hard-earned money. It was his hard work without the help of the old man or anyone else from the family.

They had no claim on him.

Moving to a place near the ocean was the best move he ever made. It was peaceful in a way that it wasn’t before. Just the company of the oceans and the sea breeze that greeted him every morning and night. It was beautiful. People respected privacy here. He wasn’t hounded by the press or having to deal with his annoying relatives. For once, he was actually able to enjoy his life. He can be himself here.

No masks.

No obligations.

Just the fresh breath of air of freedom.

_He stomped over to him, reaching out and yanking him close. Ventus didn’t flinch to his credit. Instead, he looked at him with those calm blue eyes that only seemed to infuriate Vanitas further._

_“You’re risking yourself for no reason.”_

_Ventus shook his head. “There is always a reason, Vanitas.”_

_“Then why risk yourself at all?”_

_“What was I supposed to do?” Vanitas was struck by pained blue eyes. “I can’t just…move on, Vanitas. After you left, I was lost. I didn’t know what to do because it felt like my other half was taken away from me. I hoped so much that it was all a dream. That you’d still be there for me but—”_

_“Ven…”_

_Vanitas didn’t know what to do. Seeing Ventus act like this—_

_It hurt._

_“I began to steal because I wanted petty revenge,” Ventus told him, his voice quiet. “I knew Xehanort was the reason why the slums were burned down—everyone knew. He was the one who took you away from me, but when I actually saw you again—I wanted to hate you. I wanted to scream at you for not coming back, for not looking hard enough, but I couldn’t. You looked…so at peace with your life here that I thought it was enough just being by your side again. But I couldn’t stop thieving. It would be a mockery of their memory.”_

_“What are you talking about?” Vanitas frowned, his hold in Ventus lessening. “What would be a mockery?”_

_“I told you before that those artefacts aren’t meant to be displayed like trophies. They belonged to our friends once. They were never buried—”_

_“Ventus…”_

_“I just…wanted to put them to rest.”_

Vanitas placed his hand on the wooden banister, looking out at the ocean.

Destiny Islands.

It was a place he once considered a fairytale when he was a child. It was freeing in a way that his old stomping grounds weren’t. There was a sense of peace just by being out of the ocean. He remembered talking to Ventus about it once when they were children hiding in the broken ruins of his home, both huddled over a worn blanket with a fire burning in front of them. They vowed that one day, they would go to the beach together. Together, they would be able to make a new life for themselves, free of the death that seemed to always haunt their past. A place where they can feel the sand between their toes, feel the ocean breeze spray against their cheeks.

It was meant to be a haven from their past.

In a way, Vanitas felt free. He was happy. He was content.

More than he had been in a long time.

Sometimes, he wondered if the others would enjoy it here too. Strelitzia dragging Lauriam to the beach to swim. Brain hiding under an umbrella to get away from the sun with his nose buried in a book. Skuld and Ephemer off to the side trying to see who would be able to build the biggest sandcastle. And then him and Ventus—they would be off walking along the beach shore, finding seashells to add to Ventus’ collection or drawing in the wet sand, trying to leave their mark even though they both knew it would get washed away in the tide. Sometimes he liked to imagine his friends warming up to Xion, easily accepting her into their group, knowing she was as lost as the rest of them.

It was a nice dream to have.

_“You know I can’t let you go.”_

_“I know. I’m prepared to face whatever happens if or whenever I get caught.”_

_Vanitas wanted to shake him. Scream at him. How can Ventus be so understanding, looking at him with that soft smile while knowing what would happen if he ever got caught? This was what he hated most about him. Ventus would do whatever he thought it was right and would be more than willing to face the consequences of his actions without batting an eye. He wasn’t sure if the blond was suicidal, selfless, or somewhere in between. Maybe what he just hated more was how willing Ventus would go for his cause._

_He gripped his shirt tightly, enough to practically feel the seams tear apart._

_“Why? Even if you’re trying to preserve their memories—”_

_“They deserve to rest in peace like they should have.” Ventus’ voice was gentle, despite the pain he can hear. “Everything that made us who we are today—everything that led us up to this path. I couldn’t let those memories turn out to be like that.”_

_“Ventus…”_

_“So, what are you going to do, Vani?”_

_Vanitas was quiet for a moment, gold staring into blue._

_He knew what choice he would have to make._

He turned his attention away from the calming waves when he heard the news come on. Vanitas made his way back into the living room, turning the volume on the TV louder to hear the words better.

_“In breaking news—CEO Xehanort has been forcibly resigned from his position once the scandal of his involvement with the fire of the slums have broken out.”_

_“The company is now being scrutinized and under investigation as the government’s own police force has been tasked with dealing with the secrets of the company. Local police are being investigated as well after a video of the Chief of Police being bribed has been leaked.”_

_“What does this mean for the company and for Xehanort? Both Ansem and Xemnas has refused to give testimonies while Xeha and Xion—”_

_“As of this moment, the former direction of Wayfinder Museum has not been found—”_

Vanitas turned off the TV, snorting to himself.

Finally.

He looked over to the front door when he heard it creak open, pulling away from the couch in order to greet his guest properly.

“About time you came home.”

Ventus looked up at him, giving him that beautiful smile.

“I told you I’d be home when I was finished, right?”

Vanitas nodded, walking over to his husband and greeting him with a kiss.

_“What will you do, Ventus? Are you going to keep this up forever?”_

_“Not even I can do this forever. There’s something I have to do—this is just what I needed to first.”_

Ventus kissed him back, keeping it gentle and sweet. Then he pulled back, giving him that beautiful smile of his.

“Have you eaten yet?”

“No, I was waiting for you.”

“Hope I didn’t make you wait too long then.”

Vanitas shook his head, wrapping an arm around Ventus and led him into the kitchen.

_“This is everything I have. I can’t help you more than this.”_

_Tanned fingers wrapped around the flash drive planted onto his palm._

_“Are you sure about this?”_

_“Yes.”_

“How are they?” Vanitas asked as he set a plate of spaghetti on the table for them.

Ventus looked at him. He smiled softly. “…Content. We should go see them together one day.”

Vanitas nodded, sitting across from him and looked over to the waves.

In the distance, he can hear their laughter, the childish wishes of those from the slums.

“They’d be proud of you.”

“You mean they’d be proud of both of us,” the blond corrected as he handed Vanitas the parmesan. “You helped out a lot too—in your own way.”

“You sound so sure.”

“Because I am. Now eat. I’m sure you’ve forgotten to eat breakfast too.”

Vanitas snorted, but obeyed.

_The two of them stood on the cliff looking over the ocean. The wind blew past them, ruffling their hair and jackets as they stared out at the sea. In Ventus’ arms, he held a jar tightly, as if unwilling to let go._

_“Ven, it’s time.”_

_Ventus nodded, clutching the jar tightly for a moment longer before he opened it. Tipping it over, ashes fell from the inside, getting lost in the breeze and spreading over the ocean. Both of them remained quiet, just staring out as the ashes faded in the distance, becoming one with the waves and with the earth once more._

_“Rest in peace.”_

_Vanitas looked over at him, feeling a pang in his heart. Reaching over, he wrapped his arm around Ventus’ shoulders and tugged him close_

_They let themselves mourn and for the first time, look forward to a brighter future—together. As it should have been in the first place. They knew that this was just the first step for the life they had always wanted, not for themselves but for their friends too. For those who lost their lives in that fire that destroyed their home. For those who were still fighting to survive in this cruel world._

_But they will face it together._

_And nothing will bring them apart again._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone who has stayed with this fic! There might be a possibility for some side stories, but I am happy at how it turned out, and I hope you are too!
> 
> Feel free to follow me on [twitter @ synchlin](https://twitter.com/synchlin) or if you enjoy my works and would like to help support me, you can do it here through my [ko-fi](https://ko-fi.com/synchlin)!
> 
> Again, thank you everyone!


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